A Tiny Spark
by RowlingTribute91
Summary: The 75th annual Hunger Games just ended in destruction. As Prim tries to make sense of it all, she's convinced that she's lost Katniss forever. But things are going to get much worse, and District 12 will never be the same. It's Prim's moment to step up. *Note: This is only gonna be a three-part story.*
1. Chapter 1

_"And I will stay up through the night;  
_

_Let's be clear, won't close my eyes;  
_

_And I know that I can survive;  
_

_I'll walk through fire to save my life."_

-Sia

* * *

The clock strikes for a new hour. One hour since the Quarter Quell faded to black, engulfed in flames. One hour since my sister began this fire with an electric arrow.

One hour since… Oh, I can't even think over Mom's sobbing. We sit together on the sofa, my head lying against her shoulder.

"We don't know for sure," I keep saying to her, though I feel tears staining my face. "Maybe, somehow-"

She grabs my hand firmly, grimacing. "Prim. You're such a bright ray of sunshine. Always so optimistic, even when your father died and I… I couldn't even produce the energy to keep you fed. I feel like I've only just returned to my old self. Of course, I wish Katniss somehow lived through what happened earlier... God, I wish. But the whole place _exploded_. Nothing looked salvageable, from what I saw. We have to accept it…. Katniss is dead."

So it goes, I guess. Death is the only thing I'm sure of in this world. We lost Dad; and we almost lost Katniss more than once. She came home alive, but scarred. Now… Now, there's just no way she could've survived again.

What if that was the point? That she _wanted_ to die?

No. Can't be. I saw how frightened she was when she volunteered for me. She put my life above her own, to give me a second chance. But the prospect of being 'sacrificed' must've haunted her every waking moment inside the arena.

I can't say the same about her mental state afterwards. Before Reaping Day, she had said, without emotion, "Don't expect me to come home. If nothing else, I want Peeta to win."

Which begs the question: Why would she take Peeta down with her? At first, I wasn't sure if she cared about him. Not even after she tended to his potentially fatal leg wound. My thoughts changed during the Quarter Quell- and the moment his heartbeat vanished. He legitimately _died._ Katniss was hysterical, almost like Mom when the miners told us about Dad. That older victor they allied with, Finnick Odair, literally raised Peeta from the dead, because he saw her anguish, too.

Yeah. There's no doubt in my mind. Katniss loved Peeta.

Oh great. Did I really just use past tense?

_Loves__,_ I correct myself. _She __loves__ him, and soon, I'll see both of them again_. They're practically invincible in my eyes.

"I've got a bad feeling that's not the worst of it," I admit to my mother. "I think we're… we're officially at war, Mom."

"Unfortunately," she agrees, stroking my cheeks.

A new appreciation is growing between us; something I've always wanted. I _finally_ have my mom back. In spite of losing Katniss, I know she won't shut people out anymore.

_BOOM. _

Mom and I jump at the sudden quakes. They seem distant- but my heart leaps, nevertheless.

"What was that?"

"We'd better go see," Mom replies.

Opening the door, we step outside. Way beyond Victor's Village, smoke curls upwards. And fire. A monstrous fire burns somewhere near the Hob.

"No," I whisper.

Poor Greasy Sae! I hope she's not in there. But a glimpse above shows me that she won't be the only potential casualty. Hovercars fly around, releasing explosives wherever the pilots direct them. And I know exactly who's behind this.

President Snow has ordered for District Twelve's execution.

Who should we go to? I know _exactly_ who. Someone who knows the woods and can navigate us to safety.

"Mrs. Everdeen? Prim?"

And there he is; Gale Hawthorne. The boy I call my honorary brother. He's all sooty, drenched in sweat from the run.

"Oh, I'm glad you guys are okay," he says after catching his breath. "We need to evacuate. The Peacekeepers aren't gonna stop until they've destroyed the whole district. Quickly, go back inside and take everything you need."

Mom nods, grimacing to me. "Prim, you get the herb bags and whatever cans of food we have. I'll take the first aid kits."

"Buttercup!" I suddenly exclaim. "He ran out earlier… he could be anywhere…" Yeah, it might sound pathetic to some, but to me, it doesn't matter if you're human or not. A life is a life. Hence the reason why I've never taken hunting lessons from Katniss or Gale. I can't stand thinking of my cat, stranded and hungry. Maybe worse. Still, he's a smart feline.

"We'll be on the lookout for him," Gale promises.

"What about your family?"

"Rory led them away to the same place I'm taking you," he rambles. "There'll be a bunch of others heading there, too. I've been going from house to house and giving directions. Now, _hurry_!"

It takes me five minutes to gather our food supply and jam it all into my dad's old messenger bag. Weighed down with supplies, we exit our new house, leaving Victor's Village for the last time. It doesn't hold many good memories. Dad never got to see it. We received the Quarter Quell news here. Even so, part of me had always dreamed of living in a place as beautiful as this.

I should've known it wouldn't last.

Flames continue raining down on my homeland. On my school; the Justice Building and town square; Mayor Undersee's house; every inch of the Seam. Those fireballs… they remind me of the inferno Katniss ran from in her first Games. Despite our speed, the bombs start to land just out of range. _Way_ too close. We soldier onward with Gale in the lead.

Mom and I have to pause for a second as a fireball is closing in. Ten feet. Five feet away. It passes me, towards-

"MOM!"

She remains put; like a statue. _I can't handle this again,_ I think. _She'll always be looking for excuses to get herself killed. _

I yank her out of harm's way just as the fire darts past us. Not a moment too soon. She continues jogging, little sobs punctuating her steps.

"I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay," I say.

The farther we go, the less danger we face. We've lost the Peacekeepers. When I feel I've had enough of running, Gale halts at the district boundary fence.

"Step through it," he orders. "I know what the sign says, but the electricity hasn't worked for a long time."

To demonstrate, he goes first. I maneuver past the fence with the ease of a natural hunter; light on my feet. I guess it's in my blood. But for Mom, who's not as coordinated, it proves difficult. Gale and I have to catch her so she doesn't fall.

I've gone beyond district lines just once before, when Katniss gave me swimming lessons. The forest has a beauty unmatched by anything the Capitol has created. To Gale and Katniss, _this _is home. And luckily, the lake will keep us hydrated.

But what happens if it freezes over?

Stupid Capitol, ruining everything because of my sister. Because she _had _to volunteer for me. It really is amazing how one decision can alter life as we know it; how it eventually brought us, weak and homeless, into the untamed wild. I could never hate Katniss for what she's done, though. _Somebody _needed to show President Snow who was boss. Maybe her sacrifice is the beginning of a greater future. When the war ends, we could resurrect District 12 and the Hunger Games will be done.

The Hunger Games. _Done_. If I say it to myself enough times, I can almost believe it's gonna happen.

We're deeply concealed by the trees at this point. My neighbors have clustered in groups, comforting one another and waiting for missing loved ones to appear. They've erected a hospital tent filled with people. Some are wounded; others just want company. Dining tables are laid side by side. Makeshift beds.

"There they are," Gale suddenly announces.

Gale's mother, Hazelle, clings to her younger children. After Gale, Rory is the eldest Hawthorne. Fifteen years old, and, dare I say, totally cute (I _am _a teenage girl, after all). Vick is around ten years old. Little Posy, the youngest, is five. She won't create any memories with Mr. Hawthorne. How sad! At least my dad and I had _some_ time together.

"Well," Gale says to us, "my job's not done. I've gotta head back and see who still needs rescuing."

The other Hawthornes are none too happy; yet they understand how important it is for him to step up as a leader. Most people have no clue how to get here.

Of its own accord, my hand grabs his wrist, turning him around. "But, Gale, what if we came along-"

"Don't argue with me," he commands in that brotherly voice of his. "You're not going back into that mess."

"So why are _you_?!" I exclaim.

"It's not about me right now," he answers somberly. "Since you and your mother have the most experience with nursing, you're staying here to treat anyone who's injured. Rory, Vick and Posy will help you."

"Me, too?" Posy squeaks in her tiny voice. "What can I do, Galey? Mom won't let me touch most of that stuff."

Hazelle chuckles, pinching her daughter's cheeks. "No, but this is different. You'll have Prim, and she's a good teacher."

"You can hand me supplies to make it go faster," I tell Posy. "How's that?"

"All right," she replies.

She flees to Gale's legs, squeezing them desperately. "Galey! Don't go."

"Aw, Peanut. I wish. There are still people in danger. We can't leave them behind, and I've got the skills to help."

"You might disappear, like Daddy."

Gale is tearing up a little, though he fights to hide it. "I might. You've gotta know that I love you, right?"

"Yeah. And I love you."

I can hardly watch as Gale embraces his family. There's no promise of return, but no goodbyes, either. That would be too painful- trust me. He comes to hug me as well, and coal ashes litter my dress.

"You're as strong as Katniss was," he says. "Don't forget it."

"Look who's talking," I tease.

A rare smile creases Gale's face. "See you later, then. I promise."

While he recruits a few other men, Mom and I unpack our equipment inside the hospital tent. People are lining up to be treated. I don't see any life-threatening wounds. Yet. They usually require bandages, stitches, or simply food and water. More begin flooding the campsite.

Later refugees aren't so lucky. Some have received permanent damage to their bodies; and though we try our hardest, it's clear that many won't last the night without real medical attention. We've already started a respectable graveyard within a meadow. Burials will have to wait until we know the chaos has ended.

_God, _I think_, if you're there, please send help. _

Then… the vibration of yet another hovercar. My first instinct is to flee; but as it descends, I don't see a Capitol seal on its sides. Weird. There's a loud _thud_. I hear boots touch dirt, and the purposeful stride of whoever piloted this hovercar.

He approaches us sternly. The man is fully-armored, with a bulletproof vest and rifle at his side. It relieves me for some reason. If he'd wanted to shoot us, he would have. He's tall, dark-skinned, and bulky; the definition of intimidating.

In a thundering voice, he says, "People of District Twelve, please, listen!" His arms and hands spread open, showing that he means no harm.

"I'm very sorry for the circumstances you've found yourselves in," he continues, "but we can get through this if you follow my lead. I'm Lysander Boggs, active soldier in the revolution against President Snow and the Hunger Games."

"How do we know you're not leading us straight to the Peacekeepers?" someone cries out.

Boggs thunders: "Let me explain myself! With every fiber of my being, I promise that I have no association with the Capitol. As a matter of fact… I come from a place you believe to be dead. My home is District Thirteen."


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone professes their disbelief. But I remember how, last winter, Katniss encountered these women from District 8 who claimed that District 13 existed. I've no cause to doubt it, if more than one person says it's true. Better than wallowing in grief and going down a path of self-destruction. I know the consequences all too well.

Hope is my weapon.

"Yes, District Twelve," Boggs confirms. "We survive out of the Capitol's reach. It's a massive underground colony; and we're not totally cut off from Panem news. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here. We've seen what's been happening through Thirteen's newsfeeds. I don't imagine you want to remain in the woods forever. There's plenty of room waiting for you in District Thirteen, where everyone does their part. We run a tight ship, I'll tell you up front. But you can trust us to be loyal allies."

He unzips his vest. Clipped to the inside, something golden twinkles. A circular pin with a very special bird inside.

"Dead or alive, I'm with the Mockingjay and what she represents. We understand what you're going through. Are you willing to join our crusade for justice?"

It starts with a single person, whistling Rue's mockingjay song. Others echo the melody and raise three fingers high. I add my own salute in honor of that innocent girl. She was my age. I can't ever forget it, or the way Katniss befriended her. If I had actually gone into the arena, I think Rue and I would've been allies, too, having so much in common.

But I also salute for Katniss. Peeta. Every fallen tribute and victor; every soul taken in the last seventy-five years.

I nearly joined them. _My goodness, _the idea chills me.

Boggs looks on with a proud stance. After we quiet down, he says, "Here's how this is gonna work: Our hovercrafts have limited space, so we have to run multiple trips. We'll start with the most severely-injured people. Thirty people to a hovercraft."

"Did you bring any medics?" Mom asks him.

The man from District 13 meets her eyes. "Marigold Everdeen, am I right?"

"Yes."

"We've got a whole crew," he replies. "I suggest you work here like you've been doing, and come on a later trip, if you don't mind. Some of the medics will stay behind to assist you. Let's not waste any more time. We're moving out!"

District 12's people continue arriving by the dozen, and yet we're still missing a lot of them. There should be thousands more. I think Snow's wish came true.

I think our population has been nearly wiped out of existence.

Other representatives from District 13 exit the hovercar to brief all the newcomers on what's happening, while I tend to more wounds. Their medics haul away our critical patients; and loved ones follow them inside the hovercar. As promised, Mom and I are joined by a few trained nurses that Boggs recruited. They bring quality medical equipment. Food and water, too- what a relief.

"Thank you so much," I tell Boggs before he leaves.

He nods, turning his mouth into a lopsided grin. "Don't mention it. We owed your district. Your family, in particular. Now we're even. Keep up the hard work, Miss Everdeen."

I never mentioned my name. Was it really that easy to figure out? Must be what happens when your sister ignites a nation-wide rebellion.

Everybody waves the hovercar goodbye as it ascends, the symbol of hope we never anticipated. Boggs said to expect them again in five hours or so. But there are many friends I haven't seen yet. It's all I can think about.

"Where are they," I mutter anxiously.

Finally, two figures I've been waiting for emerge. Gale is somewhat burnt, but otherwise unscathed. He carries a bleeding girl in his arms; a yellow-haired girl, close to Katniss' age. Madge Undersee.

"Prim… you're alive," she mumbles. "Thank God. My parents… didn't make it…"

_Oh, no._ How many others must die before Snow's heart softens? He's completely forgotten what being a human is like. So what if he didn't create the Hunger Games? He won't end them, not as long as he breathes. And the lengths he's gone to preserve 'order' just… _infuriates_ me.

Yup. I can't deny the anger that scorches my thoughts lately.

But I've got to stay in nurse mode. Gale lays Madge down at my table, and I see the full extent of her injuries. She's embedded with shards. Removing them could be risky.

"You're losing a lot of blood, Madge. Don't talk," I say, wrapping tourniquets around her arms and legs.

I check Madge's pulse. It dwindles by the second. The next logical step is to relieve her pain and prevent infection, so I prepare two needles; one is full of morphling; the other has antibiotics.

Touching her forehead, I whisper, "I'm sorry about your folks. Now, if we're gonna take the glass out, you need some medicine, okay? Here comes the first shot."

She doesn't respond to the injection's sting; rather, I watch her go unconscious. It's better that she's not awake during the procedure.

"Willow?" I call out after I administer the antibiotics.

The woman in question, a District 13 medic, rushes over. Willow is probably around twenty years old. Her flaming orange hair reminds me of my sister's old Capitol nickname. The Girl on Fire.

"You're lucky I don't have patients at the moment," she mutters.

"I know," I answer sheepishly. "Please help my friend. Can you tell how deeply she's been injured?"

I let Willow inspect the damage. In a moment, she says, "It's pretty bad. You'd better let me take care of this. Hand me an IV kit."

Without ceremony, Willow assembles the IV. Then she begins extracting the pieces from Madge's body. I stitch her up afterwards. But in my heart, I know it's not enough. If Boggs had waited just a few minutes longer…

"What else can we do? There has to be _something_!" I demand.

"We could give her a blood transfusion. Do you know her blood type?" Willow asks.

"The Peacekeepers know," I reply bitterly. "They pricked our fingers at the reaping, so it must be in their records. But obviously, we don't have them."

"I apologize if I've seemed rude. You're only, what, twelve?"

"Fourteen."

She looks surprised, and I can't blame her; my wiry appearance takes off at least two or three years from my true age.

"Well, that's young for a girl with your medical knowledge," she insists. "I've been working at the hospital wing since I was your age. Good job today."

"It was my dad- and my mom- they both taught me."

"Your dad would be proud."

I glance back at Mom. "She told you, then?"

"Yeah. You two should join our hospital staff when you arrive in Thirteen. I could train you, even."

"I'd love that," I answer gratefully.

As the hours pass, Madge's condition doesn't improve. All I can do is hold onto her dainty hands and think of her mockingjay pin. The one Katniss wore in her last minutes. Everything about the mockingjay is rebellion; never allowing others to define your boundaries.

Yeah. That was my sister. And it's me, too, I realize. In her place, I would've absolutely fought to convince my final opponent that the Capitol didn't need a victor. Shove it in their greedy faces.

_I'm _the one who should be dead, not Katniss. The thought's always looming over me. Death has always surrounded me. Us. My friend, who lies dying on a table.

"Madge?" I whisper. As I expected, she says nothing. But I tell her, "Do you want to hear a song?"

Then- a gentle tug on my pinkie finger. Madge's own pinkie is locked with mine. I think it's her way of replying, _yes. _ She may not have more than another minute to live.

So without hesitation, I begin singing a tune Katniss loved, the one she sang for Rue:

_"Deep in the meadow, under the willow..."_

But Madge has loosened her grip. When I check her pulse... I know. She's already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_"My pain and all the trouble caused;_

_No matter how long,_

_I believe that there's hope buried beneath it all…"_

-Paramore

* * *

Boggs has come and gone for the past forty-eight hours. I haven't been able to sleep; not that I didn't try. My brain is reeling from everything. Katniss and Madge, dead. _Thousands_ of people, dead.

Can one girl handle so much heartbreak?

I imagine this is how early settlers lived when they came here: No real shelter; huddled together for comfort. My grandfather knew our district's history well, including the name it used to have. What was it again? "Kentucky"? "West Virginia"? Either name sounds a lot more peaceful than "District 12". District 12 sounds like a prison.

Ha. That's not too far off.

We never studied the map of Panem, but I'm pretty sure District 8 is just above us, past this forest. And farther north… District 13.

There are only about thirty people remaining at our campsite. The rest, including most of Gale's family, are now settling into District 13. Gale and Rory stayed behind to continue searching for people who might be trapped, and for our protection.

"I know it's not safe," Rory tells me on this silent morning, "but I'm gonna miss this place."

"So am I," I reply.

"There's a chance we might be able to rebuild and live in District Twelve again someday, though. Look at District Thirteen. If they can do it, we can, too."

"Totally," I agree. "I don't care if I'm old by then. I'll be jumping up and down!"

"I won't celebrate anything until President Snow's executed," Gale mutters, carving into a pine tree with his favorite hunting knife. A birthday gift from Katniss. They were the best of friends; but it's become obvious that Peeta wasn't the only boy who loved her. He's grieving just as much as I am.

When Boggs returns in the hovercar, he surveys the group around us. "Is everybody on your list accounted for here, Mrs. Everdeen?"

"I think so," Mom replies.

Before we got rescued, she distributed sheets of paper so that we could all write our names down as proof of existence. A check by a name means the individual has already left with Boggs.

"Then it's time," he declares, raising his voice so the others can hear. "All of you; pack up and follow me. We're moving out for the last time."

Mom and I share wistful expressions. We have nothing to remind us of Dad or Katniss. In our rush, we only grabbed the items we needed desperately. But there's no going back.

District 13 awaits.

* * *

_Whoa_ is all I can think as we exit the hovercar. This whole underground place has existed for decades, and we never knew about it? Mind blown.

"First thing we'll do," Boggs says, "is introduce you to our president, one family at a time."

I feel the beginnings of panic, knowing what I know about President Snow. "You have a president?"

"Yes, we do. She likes meeting every single person who comes into Thirteen, whether they live here or they're just visiting. After that, we'll register you into Thirteen's database and put you in rooms. You'll start working tomorrow."

He leads us down a flight of stairs, to an office door with a plaque that reads, _President Alma Coin._

Mom and I are last to be introduced. When we're called in, we meet a stern, gray-haired woman, face wrinkled from age. I'd guess she's in her sixties.

"This," Boggs explains to us, "is President Alma Coin."

"And I definitely know who you two are," she replies, lending me a sweet grin. "Marigold and Primrose Everdeen."

As we shake hands, she says, "These past few days must've been hell for you. But do make yourselves at home. Any relative of Katniss Everdeen is a friend of mine. Boggs told me that both of you are skilled with medicine, so I'd love to have you work in our hospital wing."

We nod, and Mom adds: "We brought more supplies, too."

"Excellent! Boggs, why don't you give them a tour?"

"Of course, ma'am."

The hospital wing is our last stop on the tour, and I can't resist letting my hopes rise. Who knows what I might discover?

Three beds are occupied. The first patient has beige skin, a head of black hair (not much left, though), and glasses beside his nightstand. I think he's one of the victors Katniss allied with…

"Wait," I mutter. "That's not possible."

But Mom confirms it: this is Beetee Latier from District 3, breathing through an oxygen tube. Poor guy could flat-line any moment. The boy in the next bed is in much better shape, a handsome boy adored by every girl in District 4 and beyond.

"Finnick Odair," I say.

Finnick is up and alert, tying ropes into knots as only a fisherman can.

"You must be Primrose Everdeen," he replies automatically.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping Katniss in that jungle… I don't know what she would've done if Peeta died."

He shrugs weakly. "Don't thank me yet. The Capitol got a hold of him before Plutarch could. For all I know they've killed him, anyways. Johanna's there, too. _And _they got Enobaria, but, well… being from District Two, I bet she's off the hook."

_Peeta survived?! _Katniss would be so thrilled. My heart starts racing, thinking maybe, just maybe…

_Maybe… _

I have to calm down. There's no guarantee Katniss was saved as well. And besides, I do have some other questions.

"Who's Plutarch?" I ask Finnick.

"Former Head Gamemaker."

That makes no sense. "What?! How can he-"

"I know, sounds crazy. It was all part of a secret plan. He figured that by getting the job, he could further the rebellion that Katniss started. You know, with the nightlock thing. Me, Beetee, Johanna, and other victors were doing our best to help Katniss stay alive. Whatever it took."

As I watch him, I remember how young he was at the time of his victory. Just as young as I am now.

"But you couldn't save her," I mumble, bowing my head.

Suddenly, the cocky Finnick returns. His perfect, white teeth are glowing with pride. "Ah, sweet Prim, do you really believe that? Just check the next bed."

I don't walk; I _run_ towards bed number three.

There's the outline of a girl sleeping, brunette hair trailing out from under the sheets.

Can it really be…? _Please, oh please… _

In that instant, I'm so overwhelmed with tears.

"Katniss?" I whisper.

My sister jolts awake.

"Prim?"

I reach out my hand to her. Then I go flying into her arms, and we lock each other in a tight embrace.

"You're here," Katniss says. "You're really here."

"Yeah, it's me."

She looks me over, relieved to find I have no injuries. Wish I could say the same for her. Katniss still has bruising from getting electrocuted and clubbed in the head, along with a stitched forearm. But yes, she's alive. _She's alive._

"Mom!" I cry.

"What?"

"Mom… Look!"

When our mother sees her firstborn child, she holds onto her for a whole five minutes. "Sweetheart. I can't… I can't believe this."

"Me neither," Katniss admits, clinging to Mom like she's returned from years of being gone. In a way, she has. "I'm so glad you're both okay."

"Do you know about… about District Twelve?" I ask.

"Yes. Gale told me," she replies with a sniffle.

Then, I spit out words that have chased me for the past year, words I've been too ashamed to say: "This is all my fault."

"No, no, no," Katniss insists. "Prim, you _know _who's at fault. It's the Capitol. _They_ started the Hunger Games. _They _put our names into the reaping bowl. _They _chose you. What came afterwards… I suppose it's on _me_."

"No, it's-"

"_Prim_. We've been over this. Do you think I'd have _ever_ let you go into the arena? No way. I didn't think twice, and I'll never regret it, because you're my sister! Cato would've probably slaughtered you in the first three minutes. Your death would've meant nothing. Don't you see?"

She chuckles harshly. "It's funny. Snow asked me if I wanted to be in a _real _war. I said no, obviously. Like I wanted more blood on my hands! Now, though… I don't see any other way to end him, the Capitol, and the Hunger Games. He's getting what he asked for."

"Then, we'll put the odds in our favor," I say.


End file.
